The Methods of War
by Lisa Bo Bisaa
Summary: Ilyana left the Dawn Brigade weeks ago, but it was inevitable they would meet again. Even when she can't bear to see them. Ilyana/Zihark, Radiant Dawn. Kinda sad.


**Just something I wrote instead of working on my chapter fic. Set in Pat III Endgame. It's real short, but I needed to write it. Ilyana's POV.**

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By this point, I can't remember if its winter or we're in a volcano. The snow has been dyed crimson from all the blood that's been shed. Corpses litter the ground, some beorc, some laguz, some even still shifted.

It's a hard battle for everyone. Brom had to be knocked unconscious by Boyd after he watched a hawk nearly rip off Meg's head, and couldn't stop sobbing long enough to swing his ax. Reyson refused to speak to anyone after he saw Rafiel at Micaiah's side. Haar managed to get Jill to fight for our side, but it took some shouting, and she swung at him a few times.

I know what's coming. The moment any of the Dawn Brigade member see me, tension will consume us. I had to look away when Mia sliced through Edward's arm. The poor boy's eyes landed on me, eying the staff I had in hand. I was trembling, knowing I could easily save him, but couldn't at the same time. He finally got to his feet and retreated, shooting a glare at me first.

I'm pretty sure I cried. Not nearly as much a Brom had, just small tears here and there. I can't watch my friends get hurt like this. But I'm torn between both armies, not knowing which team to choose.

I wish I could just talk to Micaiah. She, Laura and I had shared a tent back during the Bengion occupation. She would listen to me, even when I was just going on about how hungry I was. And she always had answers. She would ignore the fact I was fighting against her men, and just help me clear my head.

But to make it all the way across the battlefield to her meant I would run into him.

It's not that I don't want to see him. I do, desperately. He's been on my mind since I left the Dawn Brigade. That silver hair, the look of determination he would always have on his face whenever he was poised for a kill. I just couldn't get him out of my head.

But now it's too late for me to see him. To see him would mean I would have to watch him battle. And with a battle, there would have to be a winner and a loser. I couldn't bear to watch the hope leave his eyes, the color leave his face. And if he were to strike down one of the Greil's Mercenaries, I think I would faint.

So I just have to stay back, occasionally weakening an enemy soldier with my Elfire tome (It's much to cold to use any other tome, and the heat each spell radiates is a blessing). But I suppose it was inevitable, as both armies were marching right into each other, that He and I could stay apart.

"Ilyana…" All he said was my name. I couldn't even manage that much, I was to busy staring at him. "What are you doing out here? You're going to get yourself killed."

He had grown so much. We used to be the same height, now I was looking up to see his face. His eyes were the same. Dark green, slanted in concentration. I opened my mouth to speak. It was hard to make words come out.

"And what of you, Sir Zihark? I'm just as vulnerable as you out here. At least I don't have hawks and tigers coming after me."

Zihark smiled. "I see your point. But Ilyana, we've no time for doubts now. This mess has to finish its course. Let's get this over with.

I shakily opened my Elfire tome. "I understand. Sir Zihark, I truly wish it didn't have to be this way." I began muttering the spell in the Old Tongue, I could feel my eyes well up with tears. Flames began erupting from my hand, but Zihark stood like a statue. My eyes widened, his sword was still in his belt. "Sir Zihark…" Was he not going to attack me? He had said it himself, this is war, and there is no holding back in war. Why wasn't he poised to attack?

I tried to close the tome, to cancel out the spell, but the flames flew from my hand and surrounded Zihark. The fire engulfed him, and a pitiful cry of pain rang out from the ball of flames. When they finally cleared out, I saw him there, and felt my stomach drop.

His face was pure white, his eyes and jaw clenched shut. He was on one knee, holding a wound to stem the flow of blood. "Sir Zihark!" I shouted, rushing to his side.

He opened his eyes a bit, trying to smile. "You've… really improved, Ilyana. I've really admired that about you, your determination to get better."

I couldn't believe my ears. "D-don't say anything else, Zihark, I'll heal you… Oh, I'm so sorry,"

I stood to find a heal staff, but Zihark grabbed my hand. "I can't let you do that. I told you, this is war. It has to take its course."

"But you held back!" I couldn't keep my voice down. I tried to break out of his grip and find a staff, but he wouldn't let go. I fell to my knees so I could look him eye-to-eye. "I wouldn't have hurt you if I knew you would hold your sword back!" Tears were spilling down my cheeks now. Zihark reached up and wiped a few away. I took his hand and held it with both of mine. It was cold…

"I could never hurt you, Ilyana. Now please, get back. Soldiers are coming; you're going to be killed." I couldn't believe what he was saying,

"And leave you here, helpless? Zihark, I can't sit by and know I could have saved you! I could defect to Daein! I could –"

I couldn't finish my sentence because Zihark had pressed his lips to mine. They were cold, like his hands, but I could feel warmth all over my face. Even with the din of war surrounding us, the moment was peaceful and serene. But after a few seconds, we parted as his head fell, landing softly on the snow. His eyes were shut. "Zihark?" I asked, alarm creeping over my voice. "Zihark?!"

He wasn't responding. His face was pale, and he looked so vulnerable. There was nothing I could do but lean over his body and cry.

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**Poor Ilyana. This really happens, Zihark doesn't attack her. I felt bad that she killed him TT_TT**

**Don't worry, I'm working on the other story. I just decided there needed to be more than one Zihark/Ilyana fic on the site.  
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